Ernesiders suffering same old slaughter
That was apt because Monaghan began putting them under the sword almost from the throw-in yesterday and had their dreams slashed to pieces by half-time.
This was a slaughter; the death of a thousand cuts. I’ve seen this kind of demolition annually for more than five decades now and it does not get any easier to view. Yesterday was hard, maybe as hard as it gets.
Exit Fermanagh.
There were times when Monaghan led by treble scores. It was all over by half-time even if a powerful wind blowing across the span of Kingspan Park was a major influence on the action.
Monaghan had its help in the first period and used it well to drill a stream of points over the Fermanagh crossbar.
The wind appeared to weaken after the interval but anyway Fermanagh did not use it nearly as cutely and precisely. If it had risen to gale force I still don’t think they would have won.
Their near neighbours were dominant all through. The league campaign form was well and truly hallmarked.
Were it not for Rory Gallagher’s goal somewhere along the dreary way ... and another close to the end ... the scoreboard would have been a dreadful sight altogether for the hopeful Fermanagh fans.
After their dramatic dismissal of Cavan a fortnight ago their hopes were high as they flooded up to the Park on a splendid afternoon and were chopped into people again by the turnstiles.
But the manner in which Monaghan harnessed the wind to their pacy patterns right from the start, with Freeman especially lethal, guillotined even the most hopeful followers well before the break.
Long before the end of what was a slaughter there were dispirited green dribbles of Ernesiders heading away past those exit signs marking the way home.
And another long trip towards that back door. We are used to that by now are we not.
This one was a bit different to the similar trips I have made to Cavan and Clones down the decades of losses.
It was different because though Monaghan and Fermanagh are neighbours there has never been the same “edge” to their battles as those, say, against either Tyrone or Cavan.
Perhaps that is because neither have the kind of pedigree which sees them in contention come any September. Monaghan have better form now, and they looked good in patches yesterday, but the recent record has seen them lose more often than not to the men in green.
They were out to reverse that trend yesterday and truly they did it in style.
But the opposition was so poor and disjointed on the day that this game could have some kind of negative impact on their team psyche. It was just too easy. It was a stroll in the park.
They hardly needed to break sweat.
Fermanagh, on the other hand, were a long way below their lively best.
Who knows how these things happen? Their loyal sponsors for many years now are Tracey Concrete.
Some of that firm’s product seemed to be adhering to their leaden boots from the beginning.
Monaghan were faster to the ball all through the field, especially up front.
They were also markedly more physically powerful and their strong tackling, especially in the midfield exchanges, dislodged a lot of Fermanagh possession at times when it counted.
It was one of those days when the men in blue and white were clearly on form and when the men in green never got that necessary rub of it. It was actually quite dreadful to watch long before the end when all hope had gone and the greatest excitement in the stands came from the text messages detailing the concurrent slaughter of England in the World Cup.
!At the long whistle a lady in green asked a Fermanagh man near me: “What now Anthony after that?”
And he answered dryly: “Plan B I suppose”.
As good an answer as any under the circumstances.
B for back door. I was glad when the ordeal ended and I could head for home.
Getting hammered, even when you are accustomed to it, does not get easier to take. Not one bit.
